


Jamella

by haleighbri



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-29 18:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleighbri/pseuds/haleighbri





	1. The Chapter Where We Meet the Main Characters, Who Cause Drama Right Away

                _Alright. Day one of my last semester of high school. I can do this. I’ve gotten through the last seven fairly unscathed. This one should be a piece of cake._

                I take in a deep breath and push open the front door of the school. Normally I get to school about half an hour early to avoid all the people, but I was running late today. _That’s okay,_ I tell myself, _It’s no big deal._ The hallway is crowded and noisy, which helps distract from the fact that I am way off schedule. As I walk in towards my locker, everyone around me is loud and excited. I start to wonder why, but my thoughts are interrupted as I open my locker.

                “Issy!” a shrill voice squeals. I look towards the direction the squeal came from. Ariel, though one of the shortest people I know, has no trouble elbowing her way through the throng of teenagers to get to me. She comes running up and I try not cringe when she hugs me. You’d think that after being my best friend for 13 years, she’d know I’m not big fan of physical contact.

                She pulls back from the hug and looks me straight in the eyes. I have to remind myself to hold eye contact. _Don’t avoid her eyes, but don’t stare too long or it’ll be creepy._ “I missed you!” she says.

                I laugh. “We just hung out, like, two weeks ago.”             

                She sighs and slumps her shoulders. “I know! But this break seemed to go on forever! It was sooo long!”

                I remind myself that Ariel is just a dramatic person, and she does not mean that the break was actually long. It wasn’t. It was a normal winter holiday break, two and a half weeks.  I open my mouth to say something, but she beats me to it.

                “Did you hear about James?”

                I did hear about James. In fact, James told me about James. I know how Ariel likes her drama, so I humor her. “No, what about him?”

                “He got…” she lowers her voice to a whisper, “a tattoo!” I try to pull my face into a shocked expression, and it must work. Ariel continues, “Some people are saying that he made his own tattoo gun like in prison, but I also heard that he held the tattoo guy at gun point and forced him to give him the tattoo!”

                I snort. I don’t think James has ever touched a gun in his life. The homemade tattoo gun seems more likely, but I know it’s not true. His mom went with him to the tattoo parlor and signed the paper work. I bite my lip, trying to decide if I should tell her the truth or let her have her fun. Before I can decide, she gasps. “Issy, I gotta go! I’ll see you later, okay?” She turns on her heels and disappears into the crowd.

                “That was weird, right?” I mutter.

                “Yeah, a little.” a voice behind me says.

                I jump and turn around to see James smirking down at me. Sometimes I forget how tall he is. 6’4”, I think.                          

                “Did I say that aloud?” I ask.

                He shakes his head. “Yep.”

                I sigh. I didn’t even realize I was doing that. “Did you hear what she said?” I ask.

                He laughs. “Enough to know what’s going on. I figured the rumors wouldn’t start until at least second period.”

                “I didn’t get the chance to tell her the truth before you scared her away.” I say.

                James leans against the locker beside mine. “I didn’t scare her away. It’s not my fault she refuses to be in the same room as me. And besides, let people talk. I don’t care what they think.”               

                I nod and then motion towards his right arm, which is covered by the black hoodie he wears no matter the weather. “How’s it healing up?” I ask.

                He rolls up the sleeve and shows me. The redness has gone down around the black symbol, but he still has a thick layer of Vaseline spread on it.

                “It looks a lot better.” I say.

                He nods and quickly rolls the sleeve down. “I don’t want anyone to see it before it heals. It just looks stupid now.”

                “Then why are you showing me?”           

                He shrugs.

                I want to tell him that that’s not a proper answer, but the warning bell rings before I can. I push him aside and reach for my locker. “Move.”

                He gapes at me and shakes his head. “Rude, Ella!”

                “Sorry! But I can’t be late to math!”

                He laughs. “It won’t be the end of the world if you are.”              

                I sigh. He doesn’t understand. I can’t get to the building late _and_ be late to math. “Where’s your book?” I ask.

                “I dunno. Lost it somewhere.”

                “You’re too smart to act this way, you know.” I tell him. “Come on, you can look at mine in class.” Before I realize what I’m doing, I grab his hand and start dragging him down the hall. It suddenly hits me that we’re holding hands and my face goes scarlet, but I don’t let go. This is mainly because I don’t know what else to do.

                Someone wolf whistles as we walk by, but I ignore them. James, on the other hand, laughs and yells, “Shut up, asshole!” It must have been one of his friends. James has lots of those, though they aren’t really the type of guys I would hang around.

                Unlike him, I talk to about four people. He’s one of them. He may look scary, with his lip ring and mohawk, but everyone who takes the time to know him loves him. Most people don’t, though.

…

                “Alright, so if you get the key dates from 1700 to 1750 and I- James? Are you listening?” Our desks are pulled together in our Asian history class, our last class of the day and the second class we have together. We’re supposed to be working on our group project, but our third group member isn’t here today and James seems more interested in his phone than the rise of the Japanese empire. 

                “Hm?” James pockets his cell phone. “Yeah, of course I’m listening.”

                “So you’re okay with that?” I ask.

                He nods. “Yeah, yeah.”

                “Who were you texting?”

                James laughs aloud at that. “That’s a little blunt, Ella.”

                Is it? I don’t think so. Maybe it’s my tone. “True, but we’re close friends and you told me that sometimes close friends can ask each other blunt questions.”

                He smirks and shakes his head at me. “You don’t forget anything, do you?”

                “No! I forget some things. If I didn’t, I’d get perfect scores on all my tests.”

                “Didn’t mean it literally, Ella.”

                “Oh… So who were you texting?” I ask. James of all people should know I don’t let things go that easily.

                James opens his mouth to answer, but is interrupted by the bell. He stands up and starts shoving his notebook in his backpack.

                “Hey, asswipe!” a voice calls from across the room.

                “Martinez, language!” Ms. Shurr snaps.

                Tito navigates his way through the throng of desks, which have been moved around to accommodate the groups, towards us. “Sorry Ms. S!”

                “Hey, Tito.” James smiles as Tito nears us and leans across my desk.

                “You up for Stoners’ Hill later?” Tito asks.

                James looks from Tito to me and then back to Tito. He knows how I feel about him smoking. He scratches the back of his neck and stares at his shoes. “Let me think about it. I’ll text you later.”

                Tito slaps James on the back. “Alright, I’ll see you later!” And with that, he leaves.

                I watch him disappear into the hallway. I look back up at James, who is staring at his shoes. “Does that mean yes?” I ask.

                He sighs. “Come on, Ella.”

                “Does it or not?”

                Ms. Shurr clears her throat from the front of the room.

                “ _That_ means she wants us to leave.” James whispers. When I don’t say anything, He grabs my pink backpack from the back of my chair and starts putting my book and notebook inside.

                How can he tell that clearing her throat meant something? Couldn’t she have just had something stuck in her throat? I want to ask, but I just nod and stand up. James holds out his hand and I take it, letting him lead me out of the room and down the hall. “I don’t understand you.” I say.

                 “You don’t understand anything.” As soon as it leaves his mouth, he flinches. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

                “Why?”

                James stops and turns to face me. “Because it was rude and out of line.”

                “But it’s true.”

                “Just because something’s true, doesn’t mean you should say it. Besides,” he peers down at the floor, “when you say something maliciously it can completely change the meaning.”

                “And you said it that way?” I ask.

                “Yes.”

                I sigh. “Why do you feel the need to tell me that? I wouldn’t have known. We could have moved on already.”

                “Because you deserve to know. I’m not going to coddle you, Ella. This could help you understand other people in the future.” He looks at me and sighs. “Come one, I’ll walk you to your car.”

                “Can I at least carry my own backpack?”

                “Nope, pink is my color.”

…

                A knock sounds at my door. I’m sitting on my bed, researching for that Asian history project. “Come in!” I call.

                My older brother, Braydin, slips in and shut the door behind him. “Mom wants me to tell you something.” I look up and meet his dark eyes. We look nothing alike, which makes sense. His dad’s black, mine’s white. I got mom’s blonde hair and hazel eyes. He’s got his dad’s copper skin, curly hair, and brown eyes. Our noses are pretty similar, I guess.

                “Mom only ever sends you in here to tell me stuff when it’s bad news.” I say. I can’t always handle bad news and Mom can’t always handle me.

                Braydin sighs and sits beside me on the bed. “Ancient Japan?” he asks, motioning to my computer.

                I nod. “History project. Don’t change the subject.”

                “Jennifer moved.” He blurts out.

                “Moved? What? I didn’t even know she was moving!” Braydin’s wrong. He has to be wrong. Jennifer wouldn’t just move without telling me. Jennifer wouldn’t move at all. He’s wrong.

                “Neither did she. Her dad had a heart attack and she had to move up to Michigan to take care of him.” he explains, refusing to make eye contact with me.

                I  know enough about social etiquette to know I should ask how her dad’s going, but I just don’t care. “How are we going to do therapy then?”

                Braydin looks at me and blinks slowly. “Isabella, you’re not.”

                My stomach drops. “What?”

                “She can’t be your therapist if she’s on the other side of the country.”

                “Am I going to get a new therapist?” I ask. I’ve been working with Jennifer since I was 5. The thought of someone new terrifies me.

                “No.”    

                That was not the answer I was expecting. “No?”

                “Well, not exactly. Jennifer said you’ve really improved. She doesn’t think you still need her.”

                “Of course I need her!” Tears sting my eyes.

                Braydin wrings his hands. “She thinks you would benefit more from a group therapy setting.”

                Group? As in, other people? The idea makes my nauseous. “No.”

                “Come on, Isabella. Jennifer and mom both agree. It’ll be a good chance for you to build social skills and meet people that aren’t all, you know, just like you.”

                Like me? “Wait, what do you mean?”

                “Mom and Jennifer,” he explains, “signed you up for a group where not everyone is there for the same reason. Some people are there for depression, or anxiety, or even addiction.”

                “Get out.” I snap.

                “What?” Braydin looks me in the eyes for the first time, mouth slightly gaping.

                “Get out. I don’t want you in here.” I look away from him, staring at the wall.

                “Are you-“

                I interrupt him. “Get out. Get out right now.”

                He sighs and stands up, making his way to the door. He opens it and turns back towards me. “Isabella, are-“

                “I told you to get out!” I throw a pillow at him. He dodges it and slips out, closing the door behind him. I know I shouldn’t, but right now I hate him. I hate him, and I hate mom for making him tell me all this.

                Alone, I push my laptop off my bed. It hits the rug with a soft thud. I look around the room. Everything is too bright. I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t breathe. My chest feels heavy, too heavy for the rest of my body. I am going to throw up. I am going to suffocate. I am not going to survive this.

                My phone chimes beside me. I open my eyes and pick it up. I have a text from Ariel.

                “Can we talk?”

                “No.” I shoot her a quick response before throwing the phone beside my laptop on the floor. I slip under the covers and bury my face into the pillow. I finally let the tears flow and I start to sob. I sob until my whole body is shaking. Even though it’s only 7:00, I sob until I’m so exhausted I fall asleep.

…

                I don’t go to school the next day. Ariel texts me constantly, but I don’t respond to her. I also get a few texts from Addie and Emily, but I ignore those, too. I sit on the couch. The TV is on, but I don’t pay any attention to it. Instead, I think.

                I think. I go through all the facts first, a technique Jennifer taught me. It’s supposed to help me “ground myself.”

                _Fact 1: Jennifer is gone. She left. She’s not coming back. Fact 2: Therapy with Jennifer is over. One on one therapy with anyone is over. Fact 3: On Thursday I start group therapy._

After that, I go through all my emotions.

                _Saddness, anger, confusion, loneliness._

Next, I go over my “personal truths.” That’s what Jennifer calls things I consider true, but other people may not.

                _Jennifer abandoned me. I have to go be with people who aren’t on the spectrum, who won’t understand me or what I’m going through._

                At about noon, the door bell rings. I try to ignore it, but whoever it is will not give up. After 5 minutes of continuous ringing, I finally get up and answer the door.

                I open the door, and there he stands, chewing on his lip ring. He wears his usual outfit: ripped skinny jeans, that stupid black hoodie, and his beat up Jordans.

                “James, what are you doing here?”

                He smiles at me. “Well, hello to you, too.” He slips past me and I turn to watch him walk into the living room. I shut the door and follow him. He plops down on the couch. “What are you watching?”

                “I don’t know.” I watch him from the doorway.

                “Are you going to sit down with me or what?” He doesn’t take his eyes off the TV.

                I sigh and take the seat beside him. We watch in silence for a few minutes. I notice my left arm starts to feel sore. _That’s weird._

“Why aren’t you at school today?” he asks.

                “Didn’t feel up to it.” My arm starts to tense up. “Why aren’t you at school?”

                “I didn’t feel up for it either, especially with you abandoning me.” he says. My arm continues to tense up, and I  can feel it from my shoulder down to the tip of my fingers.

                “I didn’t abandon you. I’m just taking a day off!” I mumble. My arm is so tense now that it hurts, and it keeps getting worse. _Not now. This never happens in front of other people._

                James laughs and looks over at me for the first time since we sat down. “I know. I was just- Ella? Are you okay?”

                The pain is unbearable now. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to ride through the pain. Somehow, I end up lying on my side. I pull my knees to my stomach and press my chin to my chest, in a fetal position.

                “Ella? Are you okay? Ella? Ella? Isabella?” I can sense and hear James hovering over me, but the pain is so bad I can’t open my eyes. He keeps talking to me, asking me questions, but he never touches me.

                “Ella? Ella?” He sounds frantic now. “Shit. Shit. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

                I need to let him know I’m okay. I need to communicate somehow to him that this is normal. My muscles tense and spasm when I’m anxious. This will last a few hours and then it will slowly fade away. Then I’ll be fine. But I can’t tell him any of this. I can’t even nod.

                “Ella? Ella? Nod if you can hear me. Okay? Can you hear me?” He sounds upset. I mean, really upset. I’ve never heard him like this before.

                I try to nod, I really do. But I can’t. It’s as if my body is focusing all of its energy on making it through the pain.

                “Dammit, Ella! Nod, goddamit!” I feel a hand hover over my mouth. “Shit, she’s not breathing.” I realize I’m holding my breath and inhale shakily. I hear James sigh. “I’m calling 911, okay? Ella? You’re going to be alright, okay?”

                I need to tell not to do that. It’s no big deal. Give me a couple hours, I’ll be fine. But I still can’t tell him anything. Instead, the tenseness in my arm becomes so heavy that it pulls me into sleep as I hear James talking on the phone.

…

                “They ran a bunch of tests on you.” James runs his hand through his hair. He looks exhausted, sitting there in the chair beside my hospital bed. His eyes are red and his face is puffy and blotchy. It looks like he’s been crying, but I’ve never seen him cry. James doesn’t cry.

                “I know.” I woke up about two hours ago. Mom was in the hospital room when I came to. I didn’t say a word to her. She tried talking to me. The nurse kicked her out after a few minutes, saying I needed my rest. I think it was really because she could tell that mom was upsetting me. The doctor came in and checked my vitals. After a while, they let me have visitors. I told them not to let my mom back in.

                “They said you had a panic attack. I didn’t know you had those. Why didn’t you tell me?” James’ voice breaks.

                “Are you crying?” I ask.

                James rubs fiercely at his eyes. “Of fucking course I’m crying, Ella!”

                “Why? Are you mad at me?” Sometimes Mom cries when she’s mad at me, which doesn’t make sense. Crying means you’re sad.

                James exhales loudly. “No, I’m not mad at you. You know I could never get mad at you.”

                “So, you’re sad.” It’s a statement, not a question.

                “No, I’m not sad. I was worried. I still am.”

                “About me?”

                “Yes, about you. I swear to god-“

                “I want to go home.” I interrupt him. “This gown is too scratchy. The sheets, too.”

                James nods. He looks so, so tired. Is that my fault? “I’ll ask the doctor if you can leave.” He stands up to leave.

                “Wait!”

                He turns back around and raises an eyebrow at me. “What?”

                “What time is it?” I ask.

                He heads out the door. “4 o’clock.” he calls over his shoulder.

…

                “James, go home and get some rest. Just yesterday you told me you weren’t going to coddle me.”

                James shakes his head. He came home with me from the hospital, and hasn’t left my side since. We’re both sitting on the my couch again, Cake Boss playing on the TV. “No, not until I know you’re okay.”

                “I’m okay, James. Really. I don’t need  you to watch over me.”

                “I’m not doing this for you.” He looks like he could fall asleep right then and there. His eyes are still bloodshot. His hair is a mess. He looks awful.

                “Who are you doing this for? My mom?”

                James scoffs. “No.”

                “Braydin? Gavin?”

                “No, Ella!” He snaps and sits up straight, staring me down with his baby blue eyes. “I’m doing this for me, okay? _I_ need to make sure you’re okay. If I don’t know you’re okay, I won’t be able to sleep. So stop telling me to go home. Or to get some rest. I can’t and won’t do either of those.”

                “Why?” I ask. “Why do you need to make sure I’m okay? Why can’t you just trust me when I say I’m fine? Why do you feel the need to stay here?”

                He slumps back into the couch. “Love makes you do crazy things, kid.”

                _Well, that didn’t answer any of my questions._

               

               

 

 


	2. The Chapter Where Everyone Makes Some Bad Decisions

                “J! J, wake up!”

                I groan, rolling over onto my stomach and hiding my head under my pillows. I have trouble getting out of bed on most days, but Thursdays are the worst.

                Dalila yells at me again. “J! You need to get up and shower!” She’s a year and a half younger than me, but she’s been trying to take care of me since I can remember.

                I sit up and rub my eyes. She’s turned on the lights and is standing at the end of my bed, glaring at me. “I’m up.” I mutter, “Now leave me alone, D.” Showering can wait another day, right?          

                She scoffs at me. “We both know if I leave you alone, you’ll go right back to bed.” She throws a towel at me and it lands on my head. I pull it off and glare at her. She just rolls her eyes. “Come on, up! In the shower you go! I washed your hoodie last night, so you’ll be super clean today! You’re welcome, by the way.”

                I push the covers off my body and get out of bed. I shove past her and out into the hallway towards the bathroom all three of us share.

                “And don’t forget to wash your hair!” she calls after me. “Don’t make me do a sniff test.”

                I laugh as I turn on the water.

…

                “See, don’t you feel much better now that you’re all clean?” D asks me when I walk into the living room.

                “Shut up. Are you ready to go? I want to leave a few minutes early.”

                “Why?” she asks. “Are we going to go pound of Isabella’s door again?”

                I can feel my cheeks start to heat up. “No!” I spit out. Yesterday we stopped by Ella’s house so I could make sure she promised to text me every couple hours, just so I would know that she was okay.

                “Look at you,” D laughs, “Oh honey, you got it bad!”

                “I do not!” My cheeks are on fire. “Come on, let’s go.”

                D grabs her bag off the couch. “Alright, but aren’t we picking up Michael today?”

                I sigh, dragging a hand down my face. I had forgotten about that. “Yeah, can you text him and let him know we’ll be there in a few minutes?”

                “I- I- Why me? I mean, can’t you do it? He’s your friend!”

                I squint down at her. What’s up with her? “Because I’ll be driving. Now, let’s go!”

…

                I pull into a spot in the school parking lot and turn Grandpa’s old truck off. Driving it reminds me of him, makes my eyes sting and my stomach churn, but it’s the only transportation I have. I try to clear my head of thoughts of him and throw D the keys. “Lock up for me, will ya?”

                “Hey! What-“ she starts to protest, but I’m already out of the rusty, red truck and making my way inside.

                I find Ella where she usually is, in her seat for math, even 15 minutes before the warning bell rings.

                “You came today.” My voice makes her jump. When she sees it’s just me, she smiles. Ah, fuck. I _do_ have it bad.

…

                Ariel finds me at lunch time. I wish Ariel would stop finding me. “Sooo,” she asks, “wanna _hang out_ tonight?”

                Why’s she gotta put emphasis on ‘hang out’? Could she make it any more obvious? I take a bite of my sandwich before I answer, making her wait while I chew and swallow. “You know I can’t do Thursdays, Ariel. We’ve been over this. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me about this out in the open, where _people_ could hear.”

                We both know who I mean by ‘people.’ Ariel makes a big show of looking around. “She’s not here.”

                I shake my head. I wish _she_ wasn’t here. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve told you a million times, I’m busy on Thursdays.”

                Ariel huffs, crossing her arms. “Yeah, but you never tell me why! What, you got a side chick?”

                I roll my eyes at Tito, who is sitting across from me at our usual table in the cafeteria. “I’m pretty sure you have to have a main chick to have a side chick. And trust me, if I had a main chick it wouldn’t be you.”

                Tito snickers.

Ariel actually looks offended by that, even though I have made it very clear multiple times that I have no interest in her other than fucking. “I can’t-“

                “Ariel.” Michael, who is sitting beside Tito, talks without even turning towards her. “Get out of here.”

                Surprisingly, Ariel listens to him and storms off. I’m sure this will come back to bite me later, but I’m just glad she’s gone.

                Once she’s left, Michael turns to me. “She’s the worst. Why the fuck are you still messing around with her?”

                “Becuh heh eh fuheen er!” Tito tries to say with a mouthful of cold leftover pizza.

                “Didn’t you date her?” I ask, trying to move the focus of the conversation off me.

                Michael rolls his eyes and takes a drink of juice. “Yeah, back in 8th grade when I was an idiot. What’s your excuse?”

                “I’m not dating her!” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Would you guys let it go?”

                Michael nods and takes another drink of his juice. Tito is still loudly chewing his pizza. I take a bite of my sandwich. We sit like that for a while.

                Tito breaks the silence. “We going to Winter Formal?”

                I look at Michael. “I think it’s our duty as the seniors to spike the punch. Think your brother can get us some?” Michael’s brother, Mark, is a lazy ass piece of shit, but he’s 21 and buys us whatever we want. So I like him.

                “Hell yeah!” Michael laughs.

                “This is gonna be awesome.” Tito  mumbles under his breath between bites of pizza.

…

                I plop down on the curb across the street from the clinic, a self-proclaimed smoke free campus. It’s about 7:00, and the setting sun shines in my eyes. I pull a cigarette out of my hood. I’m about to light it when someone sits next to me.

                “Aren’t you going to offer me one?”

                “You don’t smoke, Sherri.” I mumble, stuffing the thing back in my pocket, embarrassed.

                “And neither do you. What’s up with that?” she asks.

                I look over at her. Her hair is dyed a bluish black, and it looks about as soft as straw. She’s wearing too much eyeliner and lipstick that is way too dark for her pasty complexion. She’s wearing a black concert shirt, a plaid skirt, and combat boots. Someone forgot to tell her it’s no longer 2009.

                She stares back at me. “You don’t look too good.”

                That’s real rich coming from her. She looks skinnier than ever today, her cheeks sunken in and her arms not much bigger than twigs. Her collar bone looks like it’s about to burst out of her skin. She looks greener than usual today, too. She’s right, though. I don’t look good, because I haven’t been doing good. I’ve been losing a lot of weight, though not quite as much as her.

                “Can’t eat?” she guesses.

                I nod.

                “What about sleep?”

                Oh, I can sleep. I’m real good at sleeping. In fact, lately it’s all I do when I’m not at school. “Isn’t it a little early in the evening to be talking about our feelings?” I snap.

                She looks taken aback and then leans in and sniffs my collar. “You’re not drinking again, are you?”

                I flinch away from her. “No! Goddammit, Sherri, let it go!”          

                She looks at me, blinking slowly.

                “Or would you rather talk about why you haven’t been looking too good lately?” I ask

                She sighs and turns so she’s facing the clinic building. “No, let’s save that for Chatman.”

“We should get going.” I say.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

I stand and offer her my hand, pulling her up with me. She nods a thanks.

                Without a word, we both cross the street and enter the building. We check in at the front desk. The receptionists greet us by name. They open the door for us and we walk down the hallway to the meeting room. There are 5 rows of tables, and we take our usual seats in the back row. We wait while everyone shuffles in, playing on our phones. When the room has calmed down and everyone has taken their seats, Dr. Chatman stands up and begins his normal welcome spiel.

                I put away my phone, knowing from personal experience that Chatman has no problem calling people out in front of everyone.

                “So,” Chatman continues droning on, “what did we talk about last week?”

                A chubby girl in the row ahead of us raises her had. “Self medicating!”

                “Right, Parker. And what are some things we self medicate with?” Dr. Chatman asks.

                “Drugs!” a voice says.

                “Alcohol!” another yells.

                “Sex.” Sherri purrs, staring me right in the eyes. I try not to shudder. I’m not attracted to Sherri. At all. I know she can’t help what her illness has done to her body. That’s not what turns me off anyway. It’s her personality. She too bold, too brash, too white trash.

                “Thank you, Sherri.” Chatman says. “And why do we try these things?”

                “We hope they’ll make us feel better.” I say.

                The doctor nods. “And do they?”

                I shake my head, thinking of all the times I’ve tried to drown my sadness in anything I could get my hands on: cigarettes, drugs, alcohol, girls. “No, they don’t, at least in the long run. And I think we know that.”

                Dr. Chatman nods and addresses the whole group. “And what does work?”

                A skinny, Indian boy speaks up. “Meds. Therapy.”

                “So why do we seem to use all these other methods instead of what we know really works?” Chatman asks.

                “Medicine and therapy can be expensive. Not everyone has money for that or even access to health care.” Sherri says.

                I nod. “Yeah, and sometimes we want a quick fix. Therapy and meds only work if you’re willing to work with them, and we don’t always have the motivation or energy to do that.”

                “But don’t you want to get better?” Chatman asks as the door opens.

                A receptionist smiles at the doctor from the door way. “You have a new patient.” She opens the door and the patient, a girl, walks in. She scans the group with wide eyes, and her gaze lands on me.

                I have wanted to die many times before, but never as much as I do now. I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole, but it doesn’t. I’m stuck here, alive, looking right into Ella’s eyes.

                She looks shocked, though it’s hard to tell with her. Chatman tells her to have a seat, and she does, in the front row. The conversation continues around me, but I can’t hear a thing. I can’t see a thing but the back of Ella’s head, blonde hair pulled up into a tight ponytail.

                Sherri nudges me in the ribs with her elbow. “Are you okay?”

                I nod.

                She scoots closer to me. “Are you sure? You don’t look so good. Do you need to get some air?”

                I shake my head. I guess at this point I would consider Sherri a friend. She graduated last year, and we only ever see each other in group. It’s not like we even see each other in a social setting, but at this point it’s obvious we care about each other on some level.

                For the rest of group Ella, Sherri, and I stay quiet. Sherri keeps stealing worried glances at me. I pretend I don’t notice. When Dr. Chatman dismisses us, I stay in my seat. Ella stands up and turns around towards me. She opens her mouth to say something, but changes her mind and leaves. Sherri is still sitting beside me, giving me a questioning look.

                “Is that her?” she asks, “Is that your girl?” She almost looks jealous.

                “I don’t have a girl, Sherri. You know that.” I stand up and push in my chair. She does the same.

                My wrist starts to crave. I start to reach into my jean pocket and then remember it’s empty. _No, you stopped that. It’s healing up. Leave it alone._

I start towards the door, pulling out my phone.

                Sherri follows me. “Are you sure you’re okay? Who are you calling?”     

                I open my contacts as I walk out the door in the hallway, and walk right into someone. “Shit, sorry.” I say, nose still in my phone.

                Sherri pushes me out the way, “Watch where you’re going, idiot.” She addresses the person I ran into. “Oh hey, you’re the new girl. I’m Sherri and this is-“

                “James.” Ella finishes for her. I look up at the sound of my name.

                Sherri looks from me to Ella, as if finally putting the puzzle pieces together. “Oh my god, you’re the girl.”

                “The girl?” Ella asks, looking at me like she usually does when she doesn’t understand something someone says. I shrug. I have no idea either.

                “Yeah!” Sherri says, “The girl James always talks about!”

                _Holy fuck, when is the damn floor going to swallow me already?_

Ella looks at me again, but I pretend to be just as confused as she is. “Is this why you can never do homework on Thursdays?” she asks.

                I nod.

                “How long have you been coming here?” she asks.

                “A few months.” I answer.

                She nods. “What’s wrong with you?”

                Her words are like a punch in the stomach. Unlike when other people in the group ask, she sounds disgusted. She words are full of pity. I take a step back. I have known Ella for almost four years, known about her illness for over two years. Never once have I ever treated her with pity. Never once have I looked at her like that. The disdain in her eyes is enough to kill me.

                Sherri hears Ella’s tone and steps in front of me, separating Ella from me. “You should leave. Now.” She tells Ella.

                Ella probably looks at me, but I can’t see her. I’m too busy staring at the floor, waiting for it to have mercy on me and open up. I feel like I’m going to vomit. I expect her to question Sherri, but she just leaves.

                After that, Sherri walks me out to my truck. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

                I shake my head. “No, I gotta go.”

                Sherri nods. “I understand.” She gives me a quick hug and jogs over to her car.

                I start the car and end up driving around aimlessly until I stop at a park. I kill the power. The feeling in my wrist in is unbearable now and I can’t ignore it. I won’t ignore it. I lean over and open the glove box, searching through it until I find a razor.

…

                Disgusted with myself, I throw the razor out the window. I had been so good. It’d been two weeks. I had gone two weeks without hurting myself.

                I sigh and turn on the car. This time, I know exactly where I’m going.

…

                “Oh, come on, babe. Stay the night.” Ariel coos, running her hand down my bare back.

                I push her away and continue to pull on my pants. “I told you, I gotta get home.” Normally could go again. Normally I would want to go again, but I’m too emotionally drained.

                “Why? You’re mom doesn’t give a shit. And my parents aren’t home!”

                I look around for my hoodie. Where had I thrown it? “Yeah, but my sister will notice if I’m not there.” _There it is._

                Ariel snatches up the hoodie before I can grab it. “So? Just tell her the truth!” She tries to hold up the hoodie high so I can’t reach it, but I’m over a foot taller than her.

                I grab it and pull it over my head. “I’m not telling my 16 year old sister about my fuck buddy.”

                Ariel pouts up at me, grabbing and pulling on my belt loops. “Is that all we are? Friends with benefits?”

                I lean down to pull on my shoes, forcing her to let go. “I wouldn’t say we’re friends.”     

                Ariel sighs. “Why do I even put up with you?”    

                “Because I’m great in bed.”

                “You’re not the only guy I know that’s a good lay.” She huffs, crossing her arms.

                I grab my keys off  her night stand. “Then why don’t you fuck them?”

                “I should.”

                I smirk down at her. “But you don’t, probably because you have a thing for me. The feeling isn’t mutual. You should know that. I’m not interest in you for anything beyond this.” I motion to her bed.

                “You’re a real jackass, ya know?”

                I smile at her. “So you’re not up for this again tomorrow?”

                She sighs. “Yeah, whatever.”

                I laugh and walk out of her bedroom. I have a feeling I’m not going to make it tomorrow.

…

                Later that night, I find myself sitting on my bed, unable to sleep.

                _I should leave before I do it. That way, no one will have to find me. I should leave the truck here, though. Dalila will be driving soon._

I scratch my chin. It makes sense to leave the truck for D, but how would I get anywhere? I grab my phone and look up the bus schedule. There’s a bus stop about two blocks from here. The earliest bus stops there at 5:00 A.M. I’ll be up and out of the house before anyone wakes up.


	3. The Chapter Where We Get to Know Michael a Little Better

                The next day, James doesn’t show up to math, though this wouldn’t be the first time he’s missed class.

…

                James doesn’t find me in the hallway between classes, but I think he’s mad at me, so I’m not surprised.

…

                James doesn’t show up at lunch. His friend Michael finds me.

                “Do you know where James is?” he asks.

                I shake my head. “No, I haven’t seen him since last night.”

                “Last night?” he looks surprised, I think. “You saw him last night?”

                I nod. “Yeah. Why?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.” He looks past me to Ariel, who is sitting across the table. “Can I talk to you in private?”

                She nods and follows him to the other side of the cafeteria.

                I feel like something odd is going on around here, but what do I know?

                Ariel doesn’t come back.

…

                James is still nowhere to be seen during Asian History. At this point, I wonder if I should be worrying.

…

                James doesn’t walk me to my car after school, because James isn’t here. Instead, Ariel does. She’s waiting for me outside of the class room.

                We walk in silence through the halls, out the doors, and across the parking lot. As I unlock my car door, she clears her throat. “Issy?”

                I look up at her. She’s leaning against the back door, chewing her lip. Nervous, maybe? “Yeah?” I ask her.

                “There’s something you should know. I- I think you should hear it from a friend before you see it on TV.” She chews her bottom lip again.

                “TV?” _What is she talking about?_

“The thing is… Well, no one has seen James since last night.”

                I let out a sigh of relief. I had thought something was actually wrong. “Ari, he’s probably just skipped town again. He does this every once in a while. He always comes back.”

                Ariel shakes her head. “No, Issy, you’re wrong. This time is different.”

                “No, it’s not. He’ll be back soon. Why are you so worried? I thought you hated him.” My hand is still on the door handle. I want to go home.

                “Doesn’t he always tell you when he leaves?” she asks.

                “Well, yeah…”

                “And did he this time?”

                “No. Are you trying to imply something?”

                She reaches up and tries to cup my face in her hands. I jerk back and she rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “Listen, Issy, this isn’t like those other times. I don’t think he’s coming back.”

                “Why, Ari? What is going on? What aren’t you telling me?” _When did I start yelling?_

                “You have to promise me not to freak out.” she says.

                I’m already freaking out. I nod anyway.

                “He, well, he left a note. He’s presumed dead. They just...” She takes in a shaky breath. “They just haven’t found the body yet.”

                “Don’t call him a body.” I snap.

                “Okay, sorry. They haven’t found him yet.”

                “I don’t understand. Why would he… Why would he do…” I just can’t get the words out.

                Ariel shakes her head. “I don’t know. He seemed fine last night.”

                “Last night? When did you see him last night?” I ask.

                She shrinks back. “I- Don’t worry about it, Issy. There are some things you shouldn’t know about.” She turns to leave.

                I reach out and grab her arm. “Ari. Why were you with James last night? Don’t coddle me. James never coddles me.”                     

                Ariel stares at the ground, still facing away from me. “Coddled. He never coddled you. He’s fucking dead now, remember?” With that, she jerks out of my hold and walks away.

                I open my car door and get in. I turn on the old VW Bug and roll down the windows. Even in January, Louisiana is as hot and humid as ever.

…

                Three hours later, Braydin finds me where Ariel left me. I’m still sitting in my car, seat belt on, in the school parking lot. At some point I must have turned the car off, though I don’t remember it happening.

                Braydin sighs and leans in my window. “Hey, it’s going to be getting dark soon. Have you been here this whole time?”

                I nod, not taking my eyes off the steering wheel.

                “I think we should get home, don’t you?” he asks.

                I shake my head.

                He sighs again. “Issy, I know. It’s all over the news. I know you’ve got to be upset, but you can’t stay here forever.”               

                I finally turn to look at him. “I’m not upset, I’m just… I don’t understand. Why would he?”

                “We don’t know that he did anything, Sissy.” He only calls me by my old pet name when things are really bad. I don’t want things to be really bad.

                “Why would he want to?”

                “Maybe he didn’t want to, maybe he thought he had to.”

                “That doesn’t make any sense, Bray!” I yell.

                Braydin starts stroking my hair. “Maybe not to you, or even to me, but it may have to him.”

                I nod. That doesn’t make sense to me either, but I’m too tired to argue. “I want to go to bed.”

                Braydin chuckles. “I’ll drive you home.”

…

                On Saturday there is no word on James.  I spend all day on the couch, watching the news for updates. Braydin sits with me until he has to go to work at the local pizza shop. He promises to bring me back a couple slices. Mom wakes up at about 2:00 and heads to the hospital for her shift.

                At about 5:00, there’s a knock on the door. I open it to reveal the skinniest girl I have ever seen. She’s probably about my age, but her face looks old and her teeth are awful. She points accusingly at me. “You did this.”

                “Excuse me?” I ask. Who is this girl? She looks familiar.

                “You did this.” She says again. She’s acting weird, almost like she’s intoxicated.

                “Did what? Are you on something?” I ask.

                She pushed past me into the house. She stops in the hallway and looks around. “Some cush little life you have, huh?” she asks, spinning around. Yeah, she’s definitely on something.

                “Who are you?” I ask. “Please leave, before I have to call the cops.”

                She laughs and turns to look at me, still standing in the open door. “You don’t remember me, princess? It’s only been two days.”

                “Sherri.” My eyes widen in recognition. Somehow she looks worse than she did on Thursday.

                Sherri smirks. “Oh, so you aren’t too good to remember my name!” She giggles. “Do you remember James’ name, or have you already forgotten him?” She laughs again.

                I don’t understand. Why is she acting this way? I close the door and take a step towards her. “Do you need help? My mom is a nurse, I’m sure she knows a place you can get some help.”

                “No, I don’t need help. I need James to be okay!” she yells.

                I step towards her and take closer look at her. Her eyes dart around nervously and she’s sweating. A lot. Her hands haven’t stopped shaking since she got here.

                “Well?” she yells again, “Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

                I wonder if I should be afraid of her. “About what?” I ask her.

                This really sets her off. “You know what!” she screams, grabbing a family photo off the wall and throwing it on the floor. The wood frame splits on impact and the glass shatters into little pieces. She steps towards me and I back up until my back is against the front door.

                “I- I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I cry. “What did I do?”

                “You killed him! He’s dead! It’s all your fault!” she screams. Tears fall down her cheeks. Her whole body is shaking now. Something’s wrong with her. Even I can tell.

                “I didn’t kill him! He’s not dead!”

 We’re both crying. Some stranger and I are standing in my front hallway, crying over someone who may or may not be dead. Neither of us move, not sure what to do now.

A knock at the door kicks us both out of our trance. “You should answer that.” Sherri murmurs.

I nod and turn to open the door. “Michael,” I breathe, “thank god you’re here.”

“Isabella, I just-“ Michael looks past me at Sherri, “Who the hell is that?”

“You don’t know her?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Who is she? Is she okay?”

I shrug. “I don’t really know. A friend of James.” I lean forward and whisper, “I think she’s withdrawing. She’s scaring me.”

He nods and walks past me, holding out his hand to Sherri to shake. “I’m Michael. You a friend of James?”

Sherri nods, but ignores his outstretched hand. “You know James, too?”

“Yeah, we’re kind of really close, I guess.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Are you okay, umm…”

“Sherri” I supply.

“Sherri. Are you okay, Sherri?” Michael asks.

“Yeah, I- I gotta go.” She pushes past Michael and me, out the door.

“Hey!”Michael yells. He runs through the front door, following after her. He stops on the front porch and looks around. “Shit. She’s gone.” He turns back towards me and walks up the steps. “We should talk.” he says to me.

Michael and I aren’t friends. I think I’ve spoken to him twice before today. This is weird.

Without a word, I lead him into the living. I sit on the white couch and pat the seat beside me. Michael takes it. He sits in silence for a while, watching the news.

“They, um, haven’t mentioned him lately, have they?” he asks after what seems like an eternity.

I shake my head. “No, not since this morning.”

“They found him.”

“They… What? Is he…” I spit out stupidly.

Michael turns towards me. “He’s alive.”

“Oh, thank god.” I feel like I could cry.

“For now. He lost a lot of blood. It’ll be touch and go for a while.” he explains.

“Where is he?” I ask.

“Memorial hospital. And no, he can’t have visitors.”

“That’s where my mom works.”

Michael nods as if he knew this, but I don’t think he did.

“What did I do to him?” I blurt out.

Michael looks confused. Either that or he’s really good at faking it. “What?”

“Sherri said I did something to him, that it’s all my fault that he’s… dead.”

“Well, he’s not dead.” Michael assures me.

“But he almost died. Is that because of me?” I ask.

“Listen, Isabella, I don’t know what you did. I don’t know if you even did anything. That Sherri chic, she doesn’t exactly seem sane.”

I nod.

He continues. “But no matter what, what James did was not your fault. James is responsible for his own actions.”

“Then why did he do it?” I ask.

“His illness-“

I interrupt him. “You said he was responsible. Is it him or his illness?”

“His illness makes him feel a certain way, but he’s responsible to how he reacts to it. That doesn’t mean it’s his fault.”

“Then whose fault is it?”

Michael sighs, running his hand down his face. “It’s no one’s fault. James tries to keep it under control, but sometimes it controls him.”

“This isn’t making any sense.” I lean back into the couch.

He gives me a small, sad smile. “I’m probably not the best at explaining it. Mental health is complicated, and I’ve never experience what he’s experiencing. When you see him again, you should ask him.”          

The phone in his pocket rings, and he answers it. “Hello? … Dalila? … Yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He stands up. “Listen, Isabella, I gotta go. Dalila needs me. I’ll call you if there’s any updates. James would want you to know.”

I sit up straight. “You don’t have my number.”

Michael laughs, and it sounds real. “I’ll get it from Dalila, I promise.”

I stand up. “Okay.”I walk him out and wave from the doorway as he drives away in James’ pickup truck.

_He’s alive._

               

               


End file.
